


Attentive Listening

by TheAceApples



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: GFY, M/M, Miscommunication, Slice of Life, also: tucker loves junior and is a good dad don't @ me, in a bizarre twist of events tucker is in fact the more emotionally open and mature ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples
Summary: Cross-posted in honor of RvB Rarepair Week, if not actually part of it, @izzybutt prompted: “And that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve.” For Lucker? Or Hot Cross Buns, whichever you prefer.Clearly, I went with Lucker.





	Attentive Listening

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually written last year for the 2017 bingo wars (the "fluff" square for blue team) but i never cross-posted it over here. technically it takes place in the "fortune favors" verse (aka the temple of procreation fic) but i'm not gonna bother assigning it to the series until i've got something of substance in it. anyway, figured i may as well finally cross-post it over here in honor of RvB Rarepair Week!

“Aaaaaand, long story short, that’s how I ended up standing naked on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve,” Tucker said cheerfully as he finished the final movement of his kata.

Carolina had shown it to him, even though she admitted that she was hardly an expert swordswoman, and this was the first time he’d gotten to show it off to the only other person who could properly appreciate it. Apparently everyone had gotten suspicious of him constantly volunteering for overnight supply-runs, and the last time they’d been in the same area, the guy he had just finished regaling with one of his many exploits had gotten himself fucking shot.

Grinning, Tucker turned back towards his companion—expecting to see him reassembling the sniper rifle he had been field-stripping—and blinked when he saw it was still in pieces. He was also being examined by a very intense pair of grey eyes, which was always an experience, and Tucker tried to keep in mind what Dr. Grey had pointedly said about “strenuous activity” the last time any of them had been injured.

_No fooling around after getting shot,_ he sternly reminded himself. _No fooling around after—_

“You could have contacted the local authorities,” Locus said with his typical air of pragmatism.

_—wait, what?_

“Um… huh?” Tucker managed after several seconds of unattractive gaping.

Locus, still watching him carefully, tilted his head to the side like  _Tucker_  was the one who’d just said something that didn’t make any fucking sense. Which, by the way, he  _wasn’t_. That was  _not_  the reaction he’d expected to get with his Brooklyn Bridge Christmas story.

“If you had contacted the authorities and explained to them the situation,” the merc said with very audible patience that he’d probably developed from dealing with Felix’s shit on the daily, “you could have avoided resorting to such extreme measures.”

Tucker went back to gaping.

_“Dude,”_  he sputtered. “ _That’s_  what you took away from the story? I mean, ignoring the fact that you were listening in the first place—it’s supposed to be  _funny_. You’re supposed to  _laugh_.”

Honestly, Tucker didn’t know why he even  _bothered_  sometimes. Like, yeah, the guy wasn’t trying to kill them anymore—was, in fact, spending most of his time tracking down pirates and leaving them gift-wrapped on Kimball’s doorstep—and the sex—when neither of them was injured and Locus didn’t blanch at the suggestion of skin-contact—was  _fantastic_ , but. Like. What even  _was_  he?

And, to top it off, Tucker had apparently kicked over yet another hornet’s nest of issues because Locus narrowed his eyes dangerously. “What  _else_  would I be doing,” he said, voice flat and emotionless.

Tucker resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air. All he’d wanted to do during this run was search this latest base for rations or medical supplies or  _whatever_  and spend some quality time with the guy he was banging, but no. Apparently, in between saying “Hey, check out this thing Carolina showed me!” and deciding on a funny anecdote to break the silence, their latest meet-up had become some kind of  _ordeal_.

If shit kept up like this, it’d turn out worse than that time Tucker’s squad had gotten ambushed and he wasn’t allowed back into his armor for three days after getting caught in the tail-end of a grenade blast. That had been a disaster of a mission in itself and to top it off, he’d nearly worried Locus into going prematurely grey by not answering any of his messages while in the infirmary. The dude had actually snuck into the barracks and ambushed Tucker in his quarters, half convinced that something terrible had happened.

Sure, the visit ended in reassurances and orgasms, but the beginning and middle parts had sucked.

Back to the subject at hand, though. Tucker sighed, forced down the frustration, and backed up a few paces. “Okay!” he announced, holding his hands up peaceably. “Okay, clearly we’re about to do that thing where we have two different conversations, so let’s skip that part.” He arranged his face into something in the range of not-annoyed and made sure his body-language wasn’t too aggressive. “So, let’s work backwards. What do you mean by ‘what else would you be doing’?”

Locus did his squint, mouth set in a firm line and muscles tensed to, like, make a strategic retreat or whatever. “You were relating an important experience between yourself and your son,” he ground out after several long moments of strained silence. “What else would I be doing besides listening.”

Tucker blinked, his shoulders dropping all the tension that he hadn’t realized they were carrying. That was… huh. Now that he was searching for it, he realized that Locus looked defensive more than anything, like the guy was braced for… Tucker didn’t even know, but it probably wasn’t anything good. It never was, in his experience.

Swallowing, Tucker broke eye-contact to look at the ground and shuffle his feet. He hated when things got all  _dramatic_  and shit just because their communication was a little screwy, but still. With a pointed clearing of his throat, he glanced back up and muttered, “Dumbass…”

Locus’ head jerked back slightly and his eyes widened because, yeah, even Tucker could hear how stupidly, grossly  _fond_  he’d sounded just then. They got even wider when, after rubbing the back of his neck, Tucker ambled over and plopped down right next to him, all previous frustration forgotten.

He could see Locus staring at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulled off his helmet and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was nice to take a few minutes out of his busy schedule of frantically searching abandoned bases and cities for supplies and swapping passive-aggressive messages with the UNSC ships in orbit.

Tucker leaned back on his hands and watched in his peripheral vision as Locus slowly relaxed as well, it becoming increasingly obvious that they weren’t going to start sniping at each other and storming off like they sometimes did when they met up. “Thanks,” he said after a few more long minutes of steadily easing silence. Knowing that the merc probably wouldn’t understand, he continued, “Most, uh, most people don’t get that. About the story, I mean. They usually just think it’s funny—which it  _is_ , it’s funny as  _shit_ —and then move on. They don’t get how important it was to Junior at the time, and that’s even if they were paying attention in the first place…”

“You were talking,” Locus repeated again, a line forming between his eyebrows as he frowned.

“Yeah,” Tucker snorted, shifting his weight so that some of it rested against the merc’s side companionably. “And we  _all_  know how much of what I say is important. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you weren’t listening—was actually kind of expecting it since you were messing around with your sniper rifle.”

A brief hesitation, and then they were both leaning against each other.

“If you’re talking, I’m listening,” Locus eventually said, so quiet it would have been easily missed.

Tucker finally looked over at him with a smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you…”

They didn’t talk very much after that, but neither of them minded, and Tucker thought about Junior’s eager expression the last time they’d spoken and looked forward to when his ship would finally arrive.

**Author's Note:**

> oh hey by the way seeing izzy's prompt totally reminded me what we decided locus/donut was called sometime after s13/during s14: hot cross buns! (and then i think i named locus/tucker/donut "double-chocolate muffin" or something to that effect)


End file.
